Somewhere In Brooklyn
by Sassyvampmama
Summary: A young Sookie and Eric meet for the first time in a crowded subway station in NYC but are separated without exchanging names. Years later she appears on the set of his latest TV crime drama, giving Eric another chance to make his Miss Perfect a reality.
1. Little Miss Perfect

**This is the only A/N I'm going to make in this fic, so please read: **

**I was **listening to the song _Somewhere in Brooklyn_ by Bruno Mars last summer (2011) when I got the idea for this story. I started writing, but then my muse, flighty bitch that she is, decided to take off for parts unknown. Thankfully she has come back (though she's living out of her suitcase as we speak so I don't expect her to stick around for long) and I was able to finish this.

**I have** also branched out to the wide world of Twifics. I recently posted a companion chapter to a fic by an author I beta for by the name of Sxkitn on my profile page. I have also started a Twific of my own as well as another SVM story; however, due to the inability of my muse to stick around for any amount of time, I will not post any of my new works until they are complete. This way I won't leave anyone hanging, or cause undue frustration for myself or my beta(s).

**To answer** a few questions you may have: Yes I have been to NYC, but it has been more than 15 years for me. Yes I have ridden the subway once or twice, and yes, I do realize that the stations are underground. In order to make this story fun I have taken a few liberties, used a few popular stereotypes, and bent a few politically correct views. I realize that not everyone will agree with everything I have these characters do or say, but please take into account that this is a fictional story based on another fictional story. I live in the South and I can promise you that CH used plenty of her own artistic liberties when writing her novels concerning Southern living as well.

**Also, I** will not beg for reviews or ask you not to leave criticisms publically. I will however ask that if you feel that you need to criticize this or any other story I post, that you have the decency to leave me a way to reply to you. I only ask for the same respect that I have shown when leaving my own reviews.

**My beta** for this story is the multi-talented and much-loved **kjwrit**. She's got several stories of her own going at the moment (one of which she has graciously agreed to let me use in this story for my own purposes) as well as more than a few completed SVM fics that will knock your lemon-loving socks off. So big thanks and tons of beta love go out to her for taking my projects on; **you rock girl!**

**Disclaimer:** SVM and all its characters and original plotlines belong to Ms. Harris. I barely own this story but I do own the computer I typed it on. ;)

_**~SIB~**_

**New York City, March 2003**

I ran down the stairs, damn near skipping like a ten year old girl in my excitement, still riding my high from acing my audition. Sure, it was just for some stand-in part, but I would actually have a few spoken lines, and it was for a syndicated prime-time network show. The words 'I didn't see nuttin',' and 'Don't I get a lawyer, Piggy?' had never sounded so good, in my own humble opinion. I had called Pam, my manager and my big sister, from a corner payphone as soon as I had walked out of the audition, knowing that she'd have my ass on a platter if I didn't and really, I just wanted to share my elation with someone. She was sure this was going to be my big break. She had instantly started listing off all of the actors who had gotten their start with less on this particular syndicated crime show.

Just as I hit the platform I heard the hissing hydraulics of the train doors sliding shut and the electric hum of it moving from the station. I had just missed my train but I couldn't be bothered to be too angry. As I stood next to one of the concrete columns remembering our conversation, I started watching the crowd of people surrounding me. I saw several harried looking businessmen in designer suits that were busy yelling into their cell phones, and it was a sight that always made me laugh. I imagined they did it just to look important when in reality there was no one on the other end. Then again, maybe the fate of the world really did rest solely on whether a certain business transaction took place or not. Either way, it was always interesting to watch their facial expressions and wildly emphatic gestures.

Then you had the inevitable mother and child, or even better I thought sarcastically, children. You know, the ones who can't keep their kid under control and so they end up running around screaming and the mother either tries to pretend it's not bothering everyone in a nine block radius or is yelling at the top of her lungs for Jimmy or Katie to just sit the hell down, uttering the infamous words 'Just you wait until your father hears about this…'

Add to these two requisite characters the homeless, the panhandlers, the college students, the gang-bangers, the every-day Joe Schmoes, and of course the tourists who were either too excited or too scared to be there and you had the best kind of acting class any actor worth their weight in scripts could ever take part in; the New York City subway station. There was no better place to people watch than here.

I continued to lean up against my column, changing the direction of my glances every few seconds, when the crowd seemed to part and my breath literally caught in my chest. My heart stuttered, missed a full cadence, and then took off at a wild gallop. She was a gorgeous conundrum. She was obviously listening to some sort of dance music, as witnessed by the movements her feet were making while she was seated on the bench. Her ear buds were planted snugly in her ears and attached to a worn looking Sony Discman, but her clothing was what made her stand out.

She was wearing a red leather jacket, reminiscent of Michael Jackson's in his Thriller video, gold chains and hoop earrings, tight (so tight they looked painted on) stone washed jeans, and slouch socks pushed down around the top of her red Nike high-tops complete with the Velcro strap at the top. Her silky –looking blond hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, gathered high on the side of her head, and was held in place with a red leather scrunchy. (Yes, I do know what a scrunchy is. Pam may be my manager, but she is also my older sister, and we lived together in the 80's and early 90's.) Her make-up was theatrically done, instantly placing her as a performer of some sort in my mind, even if her outdated clothing hadn't.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her; even in her crazy costume and overdone makeup she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Before I even realized what was happening, my feet were moving and my body was being pulled to hers, almost as if I was magnetically drawn to her. In mere seconds, two breaths really, I was standing in front of her. I watched as her body reacted to my sudden nearness, instantly stiffening.

Her eyes slowly took in my body starting from the ground up, hesitating only briefly before stopping on my face, but never making contact with my own. I actually felt relieved that our eyes didn't meet right away; already they held a power over my body and I was afraid that once we made eye contact she would own me, body and soul. I held my breath as I watched her hands come up, wondering if she felt the pull too, only to exhale as she reached for her ears instead. Over the din of the crowded station I could hear the muted strains of some hip-hop or rap song coming from the ear buds she now held firmly in her fingers.

My eyes moved from her fingers to her jaw line and made their way to her crimson stained lips. I watched them move, mesmerized, when her voice drifted to my ears. In a sultry Southern drawl-induced haze I heard the words I'd waited all my life to hear.

"Is there something I can help you with, or are you planning on standing there all day lookin' like a retard?"

So of course I replied with all of the charm, wit and polish I had accumulated in my twenty five years on this planet.

"Were you listening to some kind of music just now?" I cringed as the words literally squeaked out of me. So much for the charm and polish.

"Nope, I was training my invisible circus elephant to sit and you just broke his concentration. Now I'll have to start all over again, thanks a lot." I couldn't help it, I honestly tried, but the snark and sass coming from her elicited a burst of laughter I simply couldn't contain no matter how hard I tried.

"Invisible elephant… sitting… concentration…" I continued laughing, causing her to start giggling as well. When my laughter was finally contained I chanced a look back at her face and felt my breath catch once more. Her own laughter had caused her cheeks to redden, the blush making her golden skin appear to glow and her already bright eyes to sparkle in their dim and dirty surroundings, making her out to be some sort of other-worldly creature. I drew in a deep breath, trying to hide my nervousness and failing miserably, and decided to try to talk to her once again. I could only hope that the wall between us had been broken. _Here goes everything,_ I thought as I began to speak once again.

"Of course you're listening to music, I can hear that much, but what I meant to ask was what are you listening to?"

"_In Da Club_ by 50 Cent," she said, though it sounded more like 'fiddy cent' than fifty, "It's one of my favorites right now. It's got such a great beat I just can't help moving to it anytime I hear it."

"I can't say that I've ever heard it. I'm not much into rap and _Fiddy Cent_," I emphasized her pronunciation, "is way too hard core for me to even try to listen. I usually just stick to whatever is playing on Z-100 when I turn on the radio."

"Then I bet you've heard it anyways. You know, like this." Suddenly her body started bouncing in her seat, her chest and shoulders moving to a beat that only she could hear, and then she started rapping the familiar lyrics that even I knew, "'Go, go, go, go, go shorty, it's your birfday, we gonna party, like it's your birfday, we gonna sip Bacardi like it's your birfday…"

I couldn't take it anymore, I had to stop her before I started laughing uncontrollably again, thereby killing any chance I might have of happily ever after with this girl, possibly even _the girl_, the girl of my dreams.

"Okay, okay, I do know the song, just please, stop rapping," I pleaded, all the while trying my damnedest not to laugh out loud at the sweet Southern girl spewing rap lyrics out, Ebonics and all. Her face once more took on the wondrous blush it had shed only moments ago and her eyes cast shyly downwards.

"Yeah, I guess it does sound kinda ridiculous when I do it. But it really is one of my favorite dance songs; you just can't _not_ dance to the beat, or at least I can't." I decided right then and there that 50 Cent was my new favorite rapper.

"So, is this seat taken?" I asked, gesturing to the empty seat on the bench next to her.

"Oh, um… No. I can schooch over a bit more if you need me to," she said, though I could see that she'd rather not get any closer to the man on her other side.

"That's alright, I should have enough room here," I slid in beside her, trying not to make her uncomfortable by getting too close, and asked, "So, you're from somewhere in the South, huh? I can tell by your accent. What're you doing here in NYC?"

"I'm here for school. Some of the best theatrical schools are here, and though I love Louisiana, it doesn't offer much in the way of decent drama education. Besides, I've always wanted to live in a big city and my Gran thought it would be good for me to see how you crazy Yanks live through one of your winters."

"Yeah, I suppose our winters are pretty intense, especially if you're used to what must be near tropical heat year round… and I'm sure your 'gators are much bigger than ours." I said jokingly.

"You know, that's one thing I really hate about you Yanks, you always assume that it's always so hot down south, but really, it's gets cold there too. We're just not stupid enough to live somewhere that's so cold that our blood freezes the second we walk out our doors. For that reason alone I love my home state; no freezing. We do still get some snow every winter though, just nothing like you do here."

"Well then, let me apologize for offending your Southern temperatures. I read somewhere that Louisiana was one of the hottest and most humid areas in the U.S. during the summers and I guess I just assumed it was always warm there."

"You know what they say about assuming, right? It makes an ass outta you…"

"And me, I've heard…" I started to say, but was interrupted by the laughter bubbling forth from her beautiful mouth.

"You do realize that you just took the blame for both parts of that phrase, don't you?" she sputtered out.

"Huh? What are you taking about?" But then what I said hit me and I immediately started laughing too. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? Oh wow, maybe I should just stop talking, I really am making an ass outta myself today."

By this time our joint laughter had brought our bodies closer together and our shoulders were touching. Though I could barely feel the physical pressure of her body against mine, the electrical current zinging throughout my arm was hard to ignore. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around this girl. I ached to hold her to me just to feel this amazing current along every plane of my body. I longed to throw her over my shoulder and whisk us away to my bedroom where I would gladly spend hours, days, even years claiming her as mine. I could only hope that she felt the same pull towards me.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, to try to say anything other than 'Me Eric, you my woman; me fuck you long time," another train pulled into the station. My thoughts were lost amidst the chaos of the debarking passengers and those who were clamoring to enter the train at the same time. It was then that I noticed that the girl beside me had vanished. I looked around me and saw her board the train just as the doors swooshed shut. She turned as the train started out of the station and our eyes finally met as she gave me a timid wave goodbye. Her blue eyes, a blue as dark and deep as the Atlantic Ocean, held mine captive for a few seconds before they were lost into the darkness of the subway tunnel.

I knew, without a doubt, that the only girl I could ever fully love had just entered and exited my life in the space of less than ten minutes. I knew very few things about her; she was from Louisiana, she was in New York attending some art or drama school, she had a wicked sense of humor (one that I desperately didn't want to live without), and she was beyond beautiful. I also knew that she had just boarded a train headed to Brooklyn, though I didn't know why.

The worst part was; I didn't even know her name.

But I did know that I had to find her.


	2. Next stop, Brooklyn

As the train pulled out of the station I knew that my heart went with it. There was no question as to what I needed to do; I had to find her again and make her mine. In fact, there was only one question running through my mind right now: How?

I jumped up and ran to the timetable on the wall to see when the next train would be headed to Brooklyn. Fifteen minutes; I only had to wait fifteen more minutes. Hopefully I would find her today and quickly at that, but I wasn't going to give up.

I was the first one to board the train as soon as the doors whooshed open, even before the debarking passengers had a chance to step out, and pushed my way into an empty seat. I waited impatiently for the train to start moving, counting my breaths and trying to formulate a plan. I knew that she wouldn't be waiting for me at the next station, but I decided that it was as good as any place to start looking for her.

As we pulled into the Greenpoint station, I hurriedly made my way to the exit and impatiently waited for the doors to release me. I ran through the station, hitting the stairs at a full-on run, my breathing becoming almost as heavy in my chest as my rising panic. I had to find her. I needed to know her, even if it was just her name. I had to have something, anything.

As I hit the top of the stairs, the sunlight momentarily blinded me, forcing me to stop for a few precious seconds to regain my bearings, but it was long enough for me to feel her slipping farther away from me. I ran in a straight line to the closest street corner, hindered by moving any farther by the quick moving traffic. Using my height to my advantage, I spun around, looking for her tight blonde ponytail with that crazy red scrunchy. I spotted quite a few blonde heads, even a few in ponytails, but none of them were her.

As the lights turned and the walk signal came on, I hurried across the street and down the next block searching like a mad man for just a glimpse of her. I looked for hours, circling every block multiple times, all the while hoping to catch sight of her, but I never did.

I doggedly made my way back to the station so I could catch a train back home, watching each and every fellow traveler entering and exiting the station, just hoping to see her again. Even as I reluctantly stepped onto my train, I wondered if I really needed to sleep or if I could just stay there and keep looking for her.

Once I made my way to my tiny apartment, I was welcomed to the smell of something burning inside and opened the door to a puff of acrid smoke along with the sound of a very irritated roommate cussing at whatever was the cause, so I dropped my jacket over the back of the sofa and hurried to open the window to help air out the common rooms.

"Thanks man, I was busy studying and forgot about the pizza I put in the oven like an hour ago," my roommate Alcide said as the smoke began to clear out.

I walked into the kitchen and saw the soggy charred remains of his dinner in the sink. "Looks like we're ordering in tonight?"

"Dude, did you know that pepperoni actually shoots out sparks when it catches fire?" he enquired. "It kinda looked like a tiny fireworks display in here until I got it under the water."

"I had no idea, but I don't think I'd like to see it. I personally prefer my pizza a little less well done, thank you very much." I laughed at his somewhat affronted look before going back out to the living room to grab the handful of take-out menus we had in the coffee table drawer. "I'll grab the menus, what're you in the mood for- something besides pizza? After smelling that shit I don't think I could stomach it now."

"I don't know. Chinese maybe, or Thai; whichever you think sounds better," he called from the kitchen. Chinese it is then.

I called in our order then jumped in the shower to clean up a bit before the food arrived and walked out just as Alcide was closing the door on the delivery guy. While I headed into the kitchen to grab some napkins and a couple of forks, Alcide got all of the cartons opened by the time I got back to the living room, so I grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. One of the nice things about having a roommate was being able to afford cable.

"So spill it already," he said out of the blue.

"Spill what?"

"Your audition, how'd it go?"

"I got the part, man. Pam was so excited when I called her. Seriously, she started naming off all the other actors that played bit parts on the show, and told me that it was gonna be my big break."

"Do you think she's right?" he asked cautiously.

'Jesus, I sure as hell hope so. I've been to so many auditions; I just want something to pan out soon." I sighed, "But…I'll actually have a couple of lines with this part, so hopefully... I'm sick of doing ads and the occasional commercial. I wanna be someone other than stand-in number 13 or extra number 87. I want to see my name in the credits of something…"

"Well at least you bring in a pretty steady paycheck, I have other friends who are out there busting their humps for nothing," he said.

"Yeah, I know. And I really am thankful, but I can't help wanting something more." I said wistfully.

"Hey, just consider yourself lucky that you ain't got an old lady. Debbie never stops nagging about me, and I quote, getting a 'real' job." He actually used air quotes when he said this, which almost made me crack up.

"A real job? What is it that she thinks you do?" I asked him.

"Apparently being a police sketch artist isn't something that a respectable artist does for a living. I keep telling her that respectable artists are called starving artists for a reason, but she won't listen. Hell, maybe she has a nice little trust fund to fall back on, but I sure as shit don't," he stated.

Sensing his rising agitation, I decided to change the subject and said, "Speaking of old ladies, I think I met the woman of my dreams today."

"No shit, really? What's her name?"

"I don't know," I answered morosely.

"Whadda ya mean, you don't know?"

"Just what I said, moron, I don't know her name. She never gave it to me."

"Well, how do you know she's the woman of your dreams then, if you don't even know her name?"

"I talked to her and there was this, I don't know, this connection. I don't know what to call it. We were talking and she was so sarcastic and feisty, and quick. Like really quick. As soon as I would say something she'd have a comeback. When I saw her she had her ear buds in and was kinda dancing in place while sitting on a bench. I couldn't help it and asked if she was listening to music," I was interrupted by him choking on his Lo Mein at this point.

"You saw that she had headphones on, she was even dancing around, and you _still_ asked her if she was listening to music? God, you're one smooth fucker, Northman."

"Yeah, yeah, smooth, whatever. _Anyways…_she gave me this look like I needed to stop licking the windows and spouted off this shit about training her pet elephant and that I had distracted it and now she'd have to start all over thanks to me."

I couldn't help but laugh at the confounded look on his face when I told him this, and I laughed even harder when he asked his next question. "Dude, she had and elephant with her? In the subway? How is that even possible?"

"It's not, dumbass. I told you, she was sarcastic."

"Ahhh, gotcha."

"So we talked for a few minutes and I found out that she's from Louisiana and is here going to some arts school and we talked about her taste in music, which is really bad. Seriously dude, she actually _likes_ rap. She was listening to 50 Cent."

"No shit, you hate rap."

"Right? But she started singing one of his songs and, I don't know… it was actually kinda catchy when she started to move with it," I said, unconsciously thinking of the way her body bounced in all the right places as she recited the lyrics for me. "But then before we could really get into anything else her train pulled up and she was gone. Like literally, poof! One minute she was right beside and the next she was getting on the train."

"If she was the woman of your dreams, how could she disappear without you knowing it?" he asked, giving me a look that told me he definitely didn't understand. "Are you sure you weren't imagining her?"

"Nope, no imagination; she was real. I hit the next train to Brooklyn and literally walked every block, man, looking for her and asking if anyone knew a tiny, sarcastic and incredibly hot blond chick. I got several positives, but none of them were her. That's why I was so late tonight."

"Whoa, kinda seems a bit crazy if you ask me. I mean, what if she didn't even go to Brooklyn? Maybe she caught a connecting train to somewhere else?"

"I thought about that around 11 dude, why do you think I finally gave up? Well, that and the fact that I think people were beginning to get a bit freaked out by my manic look and frantic questions. But I decided that I could find her tomorrow since I know one place she is pretty likely to be… the train station."

"The station? Huh? Did I miss something?"

"Yes, the station. I figure that since she was at the station today waiting for her train, it's most likely her normal train. Therefore it stands to reason that she should be there again tomorrow at the same time, right?" I said, excitement causing my voice to raise an octave and his eyebrow to shoot into his hairline. "Anyways, that's what I'm hoping for."

"Northman, calm down there buddy. Have you considered that it might not have been her normal train? _You_ were at the station today and it definitely wasn't your normal train. I just don't want to see you putting all of your hopes on a crazy idea. Besides, don't you think that if she was who you want her to be, she would've at least given you her name?"

I wanted to strangle the fucker then and there. Here I am, pouring my heart out and he has to get all logical and shit.

"You don't understand Alc; she's the one, I just know it," I stated despondently, my shoulders slumping against the possibility that I might never see her again.

"Well, what are you going to do if she's not at the station tomorrow?" he asked me quietly.

"I don't know. I wish I had something more though, like her name or even a picture, but I got nothing," I shrugged sadly.

"Maybe I can help with that. Let me go get a sketch pad and we'll see about getting you a picture." He got up from the sofa and ambled to his room, returning just a moment later with his pad and a tin of watercolor pencils. "Let's get started on finding your Mrs. Northman. Just remember, I'm going to be your best man if this works."

An hour and a half later and I was staring at a picture of my girl, only this time her hair was down in gentle waves around her shoulders. Alcide was one hell of an artist and with nothing more than my words to give him direction, he had perfectly captured the sarcastic smirk that turned her full lips into a sensual dream. Her eyes seemed to sparkle up at me from the matte finish of the paper and I could barely contain my need to rush out the door and pound on every one of Brooklyn's doors to find her. Tomorrow; tomorrow I would find her and somehow I would convince her to spend the rest of her life with me.

Sadly, tomorrow never happened, nor did the day after that or the day after that even. She never returned to the station. I took Alcide's drawing with me everywhere, even convincing him to sketch several others. One small enough to carry in my wallet, one with her hair up like I had seen it that day on the crowded platform, and one that was framed and sitting on my nightstand.

She became my obsession. Week after week quickly turned into month after month of not finding her, but I still couldn't stop looking for her. Both Pam and Alcide tried to get me to let her go, but I knew that I would find her again. Every day after I finished working I would rush back to Brooklyn and spend my evening looking for her once again, tonight being no different. I walked into the cast dressing room and went to my locker, grabbing my Walkman and pushed my earbuds tightly into my ears, cueing up _In Da Club_ and pictured her bouncing shoulders as she sang the lyrics for me.

I would find her someday.


	3. It's unfair, she's out there

'I didn't even get his name,' I thought as the train sped away from the platform. 'Why didn't I get his name? Good God, how am I ever going to find him again?'

He was a picture of masculine perfection, everything I had ever wanted in the flesh, and I had walked away and gotten on the train without knowing anything about him. Forget having his babies, I'd settle for knowing his name right now. At least he knew mine, right? Oh shit, I tried to remember if I'd even told him my name and came up blank. We'd talked about the fact that I was from Louisiana and that I was here attending school, but no names.

I thought about him as I exited the train at my station. I thought about him as I walked the six blocks to my apartment building. I even thought about him as I trudged up the four flights of narrow stairs to reach my front door. But the second I saw the look on my roommate's face and heard what she had to say, all thoughts of anything other than the horrible news she gave me flew out the window.

Apparently my brother Jason had called her in a panic earlier and had said that I was needed back home immediately. He told her that my Grandmother had had a severe heart attack and the odds of her surviving the damage it had inflicted on her heart were pretty dismal, and Amelia had been trying to reach me ever since. In a flurry of unmitigated terror at the thought of losing my Gran, I flew to my room to pack for my trip back to Bon Temps. I was startled to see that a suitcase was already open on my bed and had been mostly filled with my neatly folded clothing and essential bathroom items.

"I hope you don't mind, but I figured you'd be in a hurry once you heard the news. I also called and got you on a flight to Shreveport that leaves from LaGuardia in about three hours. Daddy's paying for it, so don't you say a word about paying me back for it either."

"God Amelia, what would I do without you? Thank you for this," I said through my tears.

She wrapped her arms tightly around my trembling shoulders and held on while I sobbed into her chest. I called Jason to tell him that I was coming home and to get an update on her condition, which wasn't good at all.

"Just get here Sook, she's waiting for you. But I'm warning you, you need to prepare yourself. You're going to have to tell her goodbye tonight. The doctor's don't think she'll make it to tomorrow night." Hearing Jason, usually so jovial and optimistic, tell me that I was making a farewell trip was enough to send me into another round of tears.

"I'll be there soon, I promise. Just tell her that I'm on my way." Before hanging up, I gave him all of my travel details and he advised me that his friend Hoyt would meet me at the airport and bring me directly to the hospital. "But won't visiting hours be over by then Jase?"

"Visiting hours don't apply to us Sook, not anymore." Nothing Jason could have said to me could've been more crystal clear; Gran didn't have time to wait for visiting hours.

Amelia called a cab and rode with me to the airport, and she would've walked me to my gate and waited with me there as well if it weren't for all the new security measures being taken since 9/11. As it was, I don't remember much of my wait or of the flight either. Hell, I barely remembered meeting Hoyt at the baggage claim area or the hour and a half drive to Monroe. But I will never forget walking into that ICU room on the third floor of the St. Francis Hospital and seeing the strongest woman I knew attached to more wires and tubes than I could count and looking as fragile and pale as any one of her porcelain dolls. There were dark bruises under her dull and lifeless eyes, as well as a bunch of dark purple splotches marking her arms and hands.

"My girl," the corpse-like imitation of my Gran croaked at me from her spot on the bed, "you're here."

I swallowed my fear and mentally pulled up my big-girl pants, plastered an approximation of a smile on my tear-stained face, and walked to her side. I reached out and timidly grasped one of her now frail hands, trying not to hurt her, and choked on the sob trying to burst from my throat.

"Of course I'm here, you needed me."

Gran smiled up at me, a real smile, and said, "I knew you'd come, you always do. Whenever anyone has needed anything, you've always been there. It's who you are, and I'm so proud of that."

I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes at her words of praise. She had always told Jase and I that she was proud of us, that she couldn't have asked for us to be any more than we already were. She made it clear that raising us after our parents had died was never a burden, but a task that she had reveled in. She used to tell us that we couldn't be any more hers than if she had birthed us herself.

"Oh Gran, I'm so sorry I wasn't home. Maybe if I had been, this wouldn't have happened to you."

"Nonsense girl, I'm old. My body is worn out and my ticker is tired, that's what happens as we get older. It's natural, and nothing you could've done would've prevented this," she stated wisely.

"You're not _that_ old Gran. Isn't there some surgery or some type of medicine they can give you to make you better?" I asked impatiently while still trying to hold back my sobs.

"Unless one of them here is a miracle worker, there's nothing to be done child. It's simply my time and I'm more than ready to go sit on God's front porch."

She smiled for the second time since I'd walked through the ICU room door upon saying this. She was tired, I could see it in every movement she made and in every breath she took, and my heart was breaking. I didn't want to say goodbye to her, I wasn't ready. But, then again, this wasn't about me or what I needed; this was all about what Gran needed, and I could do it… For her sake, I would have to, so I pulled in a deep breath and told myself that if Gran needed to go, I would help her get ready.

"Tell me what you need Gran, tell me what I can do," I begged.

"Come sit over here," she said, as she jerkily patted the spot on her bed next to her right hip. "You too, Jason, come over here to the other side. There are some things I need to tell you so that you'll understand that everything in my will was done a certain way for a reason."

Jason pulled himself up from the chair in the corner and made his way to sit on the other side of Gran's bed. Neither the set of his shoulders nor the look on his face made it appear as if he was anywhere near comfortable having this conversation, and judging by the way he was looking at me, I could only guess that my features mirrored his.

"Now, I have left you," she looked at Jason and patted his hand, "your parents' house and the land it's on. I figure since you already live there it shouldn't be a hardship for you to remain there. And, my sweet girl," she now turned to me and gripped the hand I was already holding securely in my own, "I've left you the farmhouse and the land that it is on. I know that you live in the city now, but I wanted you to have something to return home to when you're done with school. I wanted you both to have equal shares, but this seemed like the best way to split everything instead of straight down the middle. I don't want you two squabbling over the small things either."

Both Jason and I sighed at this point. This was a lecture that the two of us had heard more than a few times, but by my way of thinking, it was also one we'd rightly miss once she wasn't around to give it anymore. Jason reached over with his free hand and squeezed my shoulder and I could only assume that he was thinking the same thing right about now. I could have sworn I could also see a sheen of moisture coating his cloudy blue eyes.

"Jason, I expect you to help your sister out around the house until she has a man of her own to do the handyman things for her. You are the man of the family, so you need to step up and take care of her. And Sookie, you need to make sure that he eats regularly and doesn't keep tom-catting around. The two of you need to start thinking about your futures and settling down, having some babies, and carrying on the Stackhouse name. Remember always that you love each other and that family is second only to God, and respect each other. Your momma and daddy would be so proud of the people you've become, just as I am." After she finished her speech we sat and quietly talked for a while longer, but I could see that the energy it took to stay awake was wearing on her. Jase and I took turns sitting beside her, holding her hands and generally just touching her to comfort both ourselves and, hopefully, her as well.

It was just after 3:30 in the morning when the heart monitor started shrieking out its alarm, the normal rhythmic line now jumping erratically, and my own heart plummeted. She had signed a DNR form, so if they couldn't get her heart stabilized without using drastic measures, this was it. I watched from a corner of the room with Jason huddled next to me as a team of nurses and the cardiologist worked on each side of her bed. Chest compressions were being given, as well as injections straight into the artery in her neck. A small pill was placed under her tongue, and even as they fought valiantly to save her, I could see the hopeless look on each of their faces.

Just then Pastor Davis walked calmly into the room, parted the nurses hovering over her left side, and picked up her hand in both of his. Gran turned her ashen face towards him, her eyes meeting his, and nodded. He kneeled down beside her and began praying with and for her. The doctors kept up their ministrations while he did the lord's work, and a look of peacefulness came over her face. For the first time all night her body relaxed and when she took a deep breath, her chest stuttered as she exhaled and stilled. No other movements came, though a slow and easy smile covered her lips before gradually making its way to her eyes. Pastor Davis beckoned us to her side and motioned for the doctor and nurses to move away. She was out of their hands and in God's hands now, all that was left was for us to say goodbye to her earthly shell.

The funeral was beautiful and nearly the whole parish made it out to her graveside for the burial. The graveside service was short since spring days were still fairly warm and humid and many of the mourners were elderly. The reception was held at the community center, and as Gran had wanted, there were more laughs than tears as people fondly remembered all that she had done for the town, her friends, and her family. More people than I knew had gently offered their condolences to Jase and I that day and by the time it was over, we both had a trunk full of casseroles to try to make room for in our separate fridges and more J-ello molds that any one town should have at any given time.

Jason and I buried Gran on a Tuesday and met at her lawyer's office the next morning for the official reading of the will. It was pretty much as we expected since she had told us what she had planned that night in the hospital. There was one major problem though; Gran owed about ten years' worth of back taxes on the farmhouse and the property was in danger of being taken by the IRS. Her lawyer, Sid Matt Lancaster, a man I had known all of my life, told us that he could file for an extension, but that we would need to come up with something quick or we were looking to lose it for good.

Jason and I went to Merlotte's after leaving the Mr. Lancaster's office and sat down to eat lunch and talk things through. He offered to help me out as much as he could, but I knew that he had recently taken out a refinance loan in order to bring our parents' house up to code. He'd had to have almost the entire house rewired and all of the plumbing had needed to be replaced, so his new mortgage payments were pretty steep. I figured that really only left me with one feasible option. I would have to move back home, get a job and a loan, and work to pay it off.

Calling Amelia wasn't easy, nor was returning to my cozy New York apartment to pack my room up. We spent the weekend crying and laughing, sometimes doing both at the same time. I told her then about my mystery man from the subway; about how beautiful his smile was; how his laughter had sent tingles shooting throughout my body and how his deep voice had literally made me melt. We commiserated over the fact that I had no idea who he was, and that since I would be leaving Brooklyn for good, I would probably never find out. As all good friends do, we promised that we would never go more than a few days without calling each other and then reassured the other one that we really meant it. Saying goodbye to Amelia was almost as hard as letting go of Gran.

I started working the evening shift at Merlotte's and Sam was nice enough to start me off at the same pay that I had been making before I left for school. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to help me get a bank loan to cover the amount Gran owed the IRS, even though I did have to use the house as collateral. After I had been home for a little over a month I enrolled in the drama program at Shreveport Community College and began working on my degree again. I knew that it wouldn't take me to the places I would've gone had I stayed in New York, but it was enough to get me a job teaching theater at the high school.

A few years went by before I saw my mystery man again. I was flipping channels and stopped suddenly when I saw his face on my television. He was playing some handyman turned Romeo on a made for TV Lifetime movie, but I was enraptured by his static presence. I waited with bated breath for the credits to roll and finally bring his name to me; Eric Northman. I rushed to my computer and Googled his name where a couple more made for TV films came up, along with several TV series that he had appeared in. After that I was in a mad race to find out as much about him as I could.

Over the next few years he gained in popularity and began starring in TV shows instead of playing secondary or supporting rolls, and was gaining quite the reputation as a ladies man about Hollywood. It was even rumored that he hung out with the likes of Michael Weatherly and Jason Ackles in his downtime. I couldn't imagine the life he was leading and could only dream that I was a part of it. It became a game of sorts between Amelia and me to see who could find the newest tidbit of gossip or information about his life.

My life, on the other hand, was far from glamorous. I had just gotten tenure, securing my future at Bon Temps High School, and had begun acting with the local acting troupe at the Shreveport community theater. It was during one of the shows our troupe was putting on that I met Bill Compton, big time Hollywood producer. He was in town visiting his sister and they and their families had decided to take in a show. When he met me backstage I was more than a little apprehensive as to what it was that he really wanted from me and curtly told him so.

"Your attitude is perfect Miss Stackhouse. I have a role that I have yet to fill in an up-coming television crime drama series and I'd like it very much if you would consider coming out to LA for an audition."

"That's all very well and good, Mr. Compton, but I just don't have the time or money to be flying across the country for an audition that probably won't do anything more for me then put a few more frequent flyer miles under my belt," I stated, still wondering exactly what his angle was.

"Look Miss Stackhouse, I can't force you to come out to LA, but ask yourself this; what do you have to lose? The studio will pay for everything related to the audition if that would help you decide. I can promise you that I do not have any untoward ideas about you other than as a potential lead in my show, but I'll need to know within the next two days if you're interested in taking advantage of this opportunity. Here's my card. This number will put you in touch with my assistant and I'll notify him to make any and all arrangements once you contact him. I hope to hear from you." He walked away without looking back, and I couldn't help but think that this might be a blessing for me.

It took me one full day of dawdling to actually place the call, but once I made it, balls started rolling. Travel plans and accommodations were made, an audition was held, and a contract was offered and accepted. I was moving to LA, to Hollywood, to star in a new prime time crime drama called Tales of the Dead.


	4. I wonder, will we ever meet again

"So seriously Eric, doesn't this script just kinda scream _Sixth Sense_ in an 'I see dead people' kind-of way? Because I gotta tell you, I'm not going to be able to hold myself in check if they start lowering the temp in here to get your breath all foggy and shit," Pam stated, with not one little bit of amusement from her director's-style folding chair.

"Please tell me that you have at least read the script and that you're joking," I asked, absently rubbing my temples to try to relieve some of the stress-induced headache I could feel coming on.

Pam just shrugged nonchalantly, saying, "I don't read 'em anymore; not since you've rejected the last gazillion I've recommended for you and only read the ones I've said were rubbish."

"A gazillion, huh?" I asked, my lips curling into a smile I saved only for my big sister. "I didn't realize that you had received a gazillion scripts for me. It must be so hard riding my coattails and getting your nails done. Maybe I should give you a vacation, would that help?"

I had meant the last bit as nothing more than a joke; Pam knew that I had the utmost respect for how she had worked relentlessly to further my career, even to the point of dropping all of her other clients and focusing solely on me. "A vacation would be nice, Hawaii perhaps, or even the Virgin Islands for a week or two. Don't worry about a thing little brother, I'll book it myself. And you won't even have to pull your credit card out of your pocket to pay for it," she said with a mischievous glint twinkling in her eyes. "I have the number memorized!"

"I see how you are then, just using me for my money," I retorted playfully, smacking her lightly with my rolled up copy of the pilot script we would be filming today. Indicating said script by tapping it lightly against her shoulder again, I asked, "This reminds me, who is Susannah Stackhouse? I've never heard of her before this morning and yet she's going to be my co-star if this pilot pans out. Seems kinda odd that Compton would pull in a nobody for one of his shows, especially when the screenplay is being written by none other than K. J. Writ, who is a legend in her own right. I mean, all of her shows are rain makers and didn't that goofy Swedish bastard star in most of those? Yeah, it was before he took on those HBO gigs and started filming box office thrillers, but he was big enough even back then. Even I've got some industry time and pull behind me now, but how did an unknown get something like this?"

"All I know is that she's from some backwater Louisiana town, teaches high school drama- or did until a couple weeks ago, and that he found her while he was watching some acting troupe pretend to put on a play in some rinky-dink community theater when he was on vacation. Other than that, I got nada, zip, nothing. I tried Googling her and nothing came up, can you believe that? I thought everyone came up on Google nowadays, what with all the 'Big Brother' shit the government has going on."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes at Pam. Once she got started talking about Big Brother, conspiracy theories, end of days predictions, and alien cover-ups it was hard to stop her. My sister was normally one of the smartest people I knew, but I'd be damned if she didn't buy into that shit hook, line and sinker. The woman still had bottled water in her basement/fallout shelter from the whole Y2K fiasco. There were days that I was amazed she didn't walk around with a tin foil helmet on. Seriously, Chicken Little had nothing on my sister and yet, this was the woman I entrusted my life and career to. Scary, but what does that say about me?

But there was something about what she told me about this Susannah person that instantly held my attention. "She's from Louisiana and she taught drama there? I wonder…" I said, trailing off.

My mind went directly to the sketch I still kept in my wallet, the drawing of my Miss Perfect. It was because of her that I had never been able to settle down with anyone. Sure, I'd had my share of women, but none of them measured up to the picture I had of her in my mind. Days and even weeks would go by without so much as a thought of her crossing my mind, but then, just when I least expected it, I would catch a glimpse of a blonde ponytail or catch a snippet of laughter that would send me reeling right back to that crowded subway platform and the bench we sat on. Back to where she stole my heart and rode away with it, leaving me lost and looking for something I had yet to find almost nine years later.

"Eric," Pam sighed warily, "really, what are the chances that it's _her_? Don't you think it's time to give it up, forget about her and move on with your life? You're never going to be happy until you do. Alcide and I have tried to set you up and each time you end up telling them about her. Tell me, how do you ever expect to find happiness if you refuse to give up this pipe dream of yours?"

"She's out there Pam; I know she is because I met her once. I have to believe that it was fate or destiny, or something mystical like that, because if I don't then there is no chance of ever finding her again. And I don't think I _can_ be happy if I don't find her," I stated morosely.

"That's just sad Eric, just sad," she said, shaking her head at my words.

Just then the studio doors opened and people started milling around; looking at the set, moving things from spot to spot, and placing our marks on the floor. Over the din of the crowd I heard someone tell me that I needed to get to make-up so that they could get me ready for the cameras. I headed off to the make-up trailer, grumbling under my breath that I had to choose one of the only careers out there that forced men to wear make-up on a daily basis; it was no wonder more than half the men in Hollywood had flamboyant tendencies.

At least I didn't have to wear tights in this one, not that I would ever accept another role that required they be a part of my costume ever again. Can we say form fitting and nut splitting? I physically cringed just thinking about how long it had taken for my balls to forgive me after wearing man-tights for 5 weeks straight last year.

I sat down in the chair and closed my eyes, clearing my mind of everything except my role. I would be playing Alec Nordstrom, a shy and socially inept Medical Examiner and Clairvoyant extraordinaire whose best friend was a guy who'd been dead eight years named Corbin Stuckhauer. The new girl would be playing my counterpart and love interest, and coincidently enough, the newly-promoted-to-homicide-detective daughter of said dead best friend, Savanna Stuckhauer. I could only hope that this Susannah and I would have at least a little on-screen chemistry or this would be one hard season to shoot.

The make-up lady brought me back to the present with a light tap on my shoulder, telling me that she was done and calling an actor playing one of the extras to her now empty chair. Script in hand, I quickly made my way back to the studio more than ready to get today's filming underway. I looked around as I walked through the large rolling door just as the set guys started pulling it down. I spotted Compton immediately; he and Pam were talking to another blonde. It would seem that his assistant, Sophie-Anne, had let her hair grow out since the last time I had worked with him, not to mention gaining a few more curves in the right places. Figuring I still had a few minutes before 'places' was called I made my way over to greet my producer friend. Just as I was about to a stop behind Sophie- Anne, Pam made some crack about some Lifetime film I had done a few years back that had them all laughing.

I knew that laugh and it wasn't Sophie-Anne's. It was hers. Blonde hair… though not in a ponytail today, instead it fell down past her shoulders in a gentle cascade. My face must've have been a scary sight because Pam stopped talking and cautiously said my name, pulling me out of my head. I watched in slow motion as both Compton and his companion turned to face me and as her face came into view for the first time in almost a decade, my breath left me. Our eyes met and I tried to say something, anything that would make me sound smarter than the trout I felt like at the moment.

"It's you," I stated dumbly, my chest finally cooperating and allowing me to breathe once more. "You're really here, right? I'm not just imagining you here, am I?" I knew that I sounded like a window-licker at the moment, but I couldn't help it. This was my Miss Perfect in the flesh, standing in front of me and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't still dreaming in the make-up trailer. I vaguely registered Pam's astonished gasp as the realization of who this was set in.

"Hello Mr. Northman, it's great to finally meet you again. I've followed your career for years now, I even sent you a fan letter once," she said politely as she stuck her hand out for me to shake. I didn't think about it, I reached out and clasped her hand tightly between both of mine, relishing the feel of the electricity shooting through me as our skin made contact. I could tell that she could feel it too, judging by the way her breathing hitched and her eyes widened. She looked from our joined hands to my face, a beautiful pinkish blush coloring her high cheek bones and turning my world upside down.

"Eric Northman, I'd like to introduce Miss Susannah Stackhouse. She'll be playing Savanna and judging by how she blew through the audition, I happen to think that she'll be perfect for the part." Turning to Pam, he placed a guiding hand on her forearm and said, "Why don't we give them a few moments alone to get to know each other before we throw them together on set. I find it helps with the screen chemistry if my actors can get along beforehand."

As Pam and Compton started to walk away, Pam threw a concerned look back over her shoulder before she turned back to him and said, "Oh, I don't think you'll have any problem with chemistry between those two."

"So…" the multitude of questions I had for her hung heavy between us, and I needed to cut the tension quickly. I said the first thing that came to mind, instantly regretting that my brain-to-mouth filter was obviously on the fritz. "I looked for you for months, but you vanished. I didn't even know your name."

'Shut up, shut up, shut up,' I groaned, inwardly berating my stupidity.

"I had to leave New York that afternoon because my Gran died and I never made it back. I had no idea who you were until several years later when I was watching TV and saw you. I did try to write to you, I swear, but I never got a response. I figured that day didn't mean anything to you or you would've written back."

"I never got any letters from you. Most of the time any fan letters that didn't request an autograph were thrown away before I even got to see them. Whoever was in charge of opening them signed my photos too, so if you have one it's not really from me, just so you know." I tried, I honestly did, but I couldn't stop babbling. It was like the words were bubbling up out of my chest and spilling from my mouth with little to no help from my brain. I was fucked, with a capitol F, so yeah…

"Well, that explains a few things. I did get an autographed photo and my friend Amelia got one a couple of weeks later but the signatures didn't match up. We guessed it was something like that."

She never once looked away from my face while she was talking, almost as if she couldn't. I knew that I was afraid to look away myself, afraid that if I took my eyes off of her for even a single second that she would disappear again. Was it asking too much to hope that she felt the same way?

"Why did you leave so quickly that day? One minute you were sitting next to me and the next you were on the train pulling away from the station. We were talking about 50 Cent and then you were gone."

The startled look on her face worried me for a second until she said, "You remember that? Oh my, I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything about that day. It was the real start of my career and the day I lost someone before I even met them. It's not a day a guy forgets, trust me. I waited for the next train to Brooklyn and spent hours looking for you. I think I walked every street from Greenpoint to Flatbush. My roommate was a sketch artist for the 105th Precinct in Queens and he offered to make a sketch or two that I could take with me." I looked into her striking blue eyes, eyes that had haunted my dreams for years, before deciding to go on and hoped that she wouldn't consider me a crazed stalker after what I was about to tell her. "I know this is gonna make me sound like a loser, but I spent months traipsing around Brooklyn carrying that sketch around before I finally gave up."

"I was so mad at myself when I realized that I had no way to contact you. I was ready to go back to that station and sit for days until you showed up, just so that I could talk to you again. I don't think that you're a crazy stalker. If it hadn't been for Gran's heart attack, I could've been classified as one too."

"I'm sorry about your grandmother, I take it you were close?" I asked before I thought that a question like that might be considered intrusive, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that, I don't mean to pry."

"She raised my brother and I after my parents died. And you're not being intrusive, just curious. I feel like I know you Eric, and I want to know more," she hesitated for a minute and I could tell that she was weighing her next words carefully. "Maybe I just want to see if this attraction between us is worth pursuing or if it's something that was better left in that Brooklyn Subway station, but either way I want to know something."

"I couldn't agree more.

Just then a production assistant called places and we made our way to the sets. As I walked by Pam's chair she grabbed my arm and asked me if I was alright. I grinned at her, trying and obviously failing to keep my delight at running into my Miss Perfect again at bay. It only took a few seconds of her looking into my eyes for her to reassure herself that I was fine, but when she let me go I noticed that she too was smiling.

Finding my first mark, I drew in a deep breath and looked over at Susannah. "Well Susannah, are you ready to do this?" I asked, fully aware that my question could be taken more than one way.

"As ready as I'll ever be,' she smiled brightly back at me. "Oh, and my friends call me Sookie. And Eric, we're definitely friends," I heard her say, though I don't think that I was meant to hear what she whispered after that, but I did and it made my smile all that much brighter. She had whispered two words…

For now.

"Sookie it is then," I said happily. "Hey Sookie, I got a question for you."

"Yes Eric, what is it?"

"Did you ever get that elephant trained?"

Her stomach-clenching, ball-raising, erection-inducing laughter could be heard ringing throughout the studio. Everyone around us stopped what they were doing to look at her glorious face, uplifted as she threw her head back in surprise at my question. "No Eric, I never did. Maybe you can help with that too!"


	5. I hope we do, somewhere in Brooklyn

"Eric! Oh… ungh… oh God… so close… so… Gooooood!" Sookie panted loudly as I let her swollen clit go with a pop of my lips. I slid my body against the slim lines of her body until my painfully hard cock was nestled in the drenched apex of her thighs, steeling myself for the overload of sensation that would come next. After five years together Sookie was still as tight as the first time. All I could say was thank God for kegal exercises.

I growled a string of unintelligible words as I thrust my entire length into her still pulsating pussy and the sudden intrusion brought on another round of clenching for Sookie with her inner walls throbbing around my shaft and pulling me towards my own orgasm. Wanting to put it off for as long as I could, I had to stop moving for a few seconds, so I buried my face in her neck and the sweet saltiness of her skin tasted amazing on my tongue. Hesitantly, I moved my hips, up and in further, before I pulled out slowly, inch by inch, until just the head was still inside her. Sookie started to grind her mound against me and I grabbed her hips with both hands to hold her down and pulled out completely. I ran the head of my cock up and down the length of her slit, toying with her clit before I teased her hole only to refuse to give her what she so desperately wanted.

There was a lot to be said about patience when it came to making love, something that Sookie didn't fully appreciate at the moment. "Jesus Eric, just fuck me already, please. Stop teasing me, I need you,' she implored. Not one to deny her anything, I slammed my cock as deep as it would go and retreated only to repeat the action again and again.

I could feel my balls as they steadily pulled up and tightened, readying themselves to explode and I pushed harder, slipping my hand between our sweat-slicked bodies and homing in on her clit, pinching it lightly. She bucked up under me, causing me to hit yet another level of depth and for her to scream out. As her pussy started milking my cock, it was impossible for me to stave off my own completion and I let myself go, finding a rhythm where I slammed into her, as her inner spasms ebbed, and I got down to the pleasurable business of coming. Three more quick, but effective, thrusts was all it took to have me singing out her praises.

I collapsed over her and tried not to crush her under my weight, but she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down onto her. As my breathing slowed to a more manageable rate, I move off of her and tucked her into my side. She laid her head on my chest, placing open-mouthed kissed wherever she could reach without having to move. I ran my fingers through her hair, pausing to untangle the knots that our lovemaking had given her and listened as her breathing slowed and became even, smiling as she drifted off, wrapped in the shelter of my arms.

I had searched for years for this amazing woman only to have fate drop her in my lap once again when I least expected it. The last five years had exceeded all my expectations for my Miss Perfect and each day with her was more wonderful than the last. That's not to say that we didn't argue or have bad days, but they were far outnumbered by the good ones we shared.

Sookie was everything that I could've hoped for in a wife and partner. She was loving and kind, but she didn't put up with my bullshit either. She got along with Pam, which was a feat in and of itself, but they had forged a friendship that neither could live without now. Her brother and I got along pretty well too, though I sometimes still thought he'd like to shoot me for sleeping with his sister. Ever since he walked in on us a week before our wedding, he's given me this appraising glare when he thinks I'm not looking, almost like he was trying to decide if he could take me or not. No man like to be reminded that their little sister was having sex, whether she's married or not, but we got along great for the most part.

Pam was still my manager, as well as Sookie's, though she's had to slow down some lately. It was hard work managing two brilliant acting careers and chasing after twin toddlers. Yep, that's right; my big sister was a mommy. She met Hoyt at our wedding and it was done. Well, that's what she tried to get everyone to believe. The truth was that they got a little drunk, then a little handsy, then a lot more drunk and disappeared from the reception. When she found out she was pregnant two and a half months later, he asked her to marry him and she plainly told him no. It took him asking her every day of her pregnancy before she finally relented and with less than a week to go before the twins' arrival, she happily became Mrs. Hoyt Fortenberry. But now she was the epitome of happiness; well she was if you considered her looking harried and exhausted 'happy', which she did.

We were in the process of shooting our fifth season of Tales of the Dead, the show that brought her back into my life once more. Different variations on dead homicide victims had been on the show, but Bloated Blugo had lasted the test of time. After the first season when my character had confessed his 'issues' to Savannah and she had accepted and loved him, her father was able to make peace and move on, thus opening up the space for a new buddy. Zach became a permanent character, and after we persuaded the writer to have him stop saying 'Dude' all the time, it was bearable. I swear, I spent more time trying not to say 'dude' during normal conversations at first, a problem I still find myself dealing with from time to time.

I reached my free hand down to caress Sookie's slightly rounded belly. She was just under five months pregnant with our first child, and while I was slightly worried about whether or not I would be a good dad, I knew that she would be an amazing mother. The way I figured it, it was my job to spoil our child anyways, and I was sure I could do that. Sookie took that moment to shift her body, pushing her belly closer to my still moving hand, and smiled in her sleep. I tightened my hold on her and pulled the blankets up around us, closing my eyes and focusing on her relaxed breathing until my own matched hers, and I eventually fell asleep with a satisfied smile on my own face, cocooned in the happy knowledge that I would get to do this every day for the rest of my life.

Did I mention that Sookie and I still went back to Brooklyn, back to where everything for us started, every year on our anniversary?

**~The End~**

* * *

><p><strong>I've had more than a few readers PM me or leave a review asking about the jump from chapter 4 to chapter 5 and have decided to answer it this way: <strong>I hate drawing everything out and think that the one thing that many fanfics lack is requiring the readers to use their imaginations. I left that period of time alone for the simple reason that I figured that their relationship would progress in the manner most leading to marriage and childbirth do, but wished to let everyone fill in their own version in the blank provided.

My vision of a happy and strong relationship is not all roses and walks in the park, but filled with day to day minutia that would be too tedious to write. I often say that the hardest job I have ever had is that of a wife to my husband, not that loving him is difficult, but I have to work every day in order for my marriage to remain as wonderful 14 years later as it was on my wedding day, and that is how I envision life for them has been as well.

I could have added more sex to fill the gaps, but that is not the tone that I wanted to portray with this coupling, though I've done it for other stories of mine. I wanted this to be a story of unrequited longing and yearning for the other half of their souls and of the happiness that being reunited brought them, not a steamy PWP story.

I promise that I am not writing this as a way to lecture you or anyone else, but to let you know why there is a 5 year gap that does little to cover how they got from point A to point B. I do enjoy reading fics and stories that spell everything out for a reader, but I am far more intrigued when an author gives me just enough information to form my own vision of their storyline.

I thank you all for taking the time to read this fic, and for honestly submitting your questions and allowing me to explain. I also thank you for all of the reviews you have submitted, I have appreciated each of them.

Sassy


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